


Inside Violence

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Animalistic, Bodily Fluids, Breeding, Bugs & Insects, Emetophilia, Grubs, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Oviposition, Scientific, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles, Ultra Hardcore, Vomiting, live birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus's crew responds to a distress call from a field agent but discovers they are too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside Violence

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON THIS ONE, THEY ARE NOT MINOR REFERENCES THEY ARE VERY GRAPHICALLY SHOWN. 
> 
> But, as always, should you chose to read on, enjoy~!

The Quintessons had been dead for millions of stellar cycles, so Blurr found it hard to create an explanation for the situation they were in. When his ship had been taken he called for help, and a small crew had come, Rodimus’s crew, but they were similarly scooped into the bowels of the Quintesson cruiser and locked in the cage across from his, all of them together in a cramped pile like dead turbo rats. They weren’t dead though, and they squirmed and complained themselves into a better arrangement as each of them slowly came online.

Of course, by then Blurr was already losing his mind.

“So this is what you meant by ‘big’ trouble” said Rodimus, looking around and pretending he wasn’t grinding his teeth in pain over his half crushed arm, “cozy, really.”

The room itself was smaller than he’d have thought, made from a material that approached spongey but was likely not. there were several small platforms with cages like their own, although empty, on them and a wall to their right that cut off at an angle obscuring whatever lay behind it, door or otherwise. In the center of the flat ground in front of that space was a small post with a few rings welded to it the purpose of which he wasn’t certain but didn’t much care to find out. It was dark, but only just, light emanating through the membranous ceiling in soft jelly globes.

“We were having a hard time decoding your message,” Red Alert straightened herself, looking around and trying all her sensors.

“It wasn’t encoded,” said Blurr, muffled behind the rubber of his wheels. He was curled up in the edge of his enclosure, despairing. Rodimus shuffled as close to the bars as he could, putting on a brave smile.

“Hey, now that we’re _in_ we only need to find a way _out!_ Besides, we radioed the Guard before leaving, even if we are stuck – which we aren’t – someone will know we’re here.”

Blurr did not look at him, shaking his head. He was filthy, though he didn’t look particularly damaged, a wicked smelling black gunk crusting around his legs and the floor of his cage. Rodimus glanced at Red Alert but she looked equally helpless without her supplies, whatever signal dampeners they had in here cutting off even short range EM pulses. They could not even feel Blurr from ten feet away.

“How long were we out?”

Hot Shot was edging towards Brawn, nervous and pretending not to be. He was too young to know much about the Quintessons, they all were, and it was like being trapped inside a not-so story vid to him. Brawn was good enough to pat his shoulder comfortingly, letting his physique do the talking. They were all on edge, but that was the nature of things. It would have been easier to keep up the façade of adventure if Blurr had been more responsive, though.

“I can’t say for sure. The beam they used on our ship was… it was new. Nothing in the history of medicine classes ever spoke of something with both the ability to move matter without damaging it and to affect the neurological states of the bots inside it.”

“Well then I guess you’re going to have a doctrine to write when you get home!”                                            

“That’s not the right word, Rodimus.”

“Shh, whatever, you get me.”

He flashed her a winning smile just shy of a wince.

There was a small warped bubbling sound and the hiss of depressurizing air. A door, or something that served as a door, had been opened, and voices now approached. It was impossible to tell how many because there were no footfalls, only the hiss of the twitching hardlight stalks the Quintessons floated upon and the slick sound of their organic parts shifting as they gestured.

“…only the smallest one shows real signs. The larger red one has the technology but it is nonresponsive to the initial probes.”

“That doesn’t matter much; we can always stimulate growth. In fact the simple hiccup of it not being active equipment may mean we can shape it before it blossoms, giving us more room to work.”

“Only if you know it will. I’m not taking another fall for this.”

They were ugly beings, slick to look at and likely slicker to touch, their organic flesh seeming to melt and budge inside its metal cradle. They were not entirely standard looking but if Rodimus remembered correctly the two with long helms and short, fanged snouts were called Prosecutors. He couldn’t remember the name for the smaller, more hideous one with a head like a great fleshy tumor, beady little optics flashing a smile as he noticed the attention of the caged group. One of the Prosecutors was holding a chain leash of some kind which was attached to what was either a collar or a growth in the neck of a beast that walked beside them on multiple legs, long and low like a predator. It snuffled the tile, dripping tan foam from the corners of its lipless maw. Following the parade in total silence was a Judge. 

“And here they are!”

The small one’s voice grated on Rodimus enough for him to instantly decide that squid needed a punch to the face.

“As you can see, they are all quite small and useless little beings, worse than the last batch we picked up, what was it, forty vorns ago?”

“Yes, yes,” the Judge hummed, flicking through a few faces, “that is irrelevant, Inquirata. I want to see these results you’ve been speaking of.”

They approached the two cages and the beast on the lead began to vibrate, its mandibles clacking as it pulled towards them. Rodimus could hardly make out a real face amidst the swarm of teeth, scars, and optics that wrapped around it. Blurr looked up then, stricken.

“So, you’re the ugly mugs that invited us to dinner.”

Rodimus smirked, finally in his element.

“I seem to have lost my monogrammed invitation explaining what kind of kinky nonsense we were getting into.”

The Prosecutors laughed, as if finding him pathetically humorous, but the small one merely sniffed.

“As you can see their intelligence is also lacking. That is good for is, however, as it makes them easy to break.”

The beast was making short punctuated barking sounds and the Prosecutor holding its lead jerked it back. Blurr clutched at himself.

“No, no, no, not right now, no, not with them!”

“ _This_ ,” said the small one, Inquirata, “is the test subject we’ve been working with. I think you’ll appreciate the results.”

The Prosecutor with free hands approached Blurr’s cage, pulling a similar leash to that the beast was wearing out from somewhere in his bulky body. Rodimus had seen Blurr in action before, seen him in the field. He knew Blurr was a strong minded agent and had seen him direct others with great calm even with one leg blown off during a camp raid off map. He had a reputation for his sharp mind and sharper mouth, skilled in espionage and a trained fighter, a jewel in the Intelligence Division’s crown. They were not close, but he had known Blurr in personal situations to be dedicated, calm, and grounded.

Blurr _howled_ when the Quintesson opened the cage and reached for him. His was smaller than the one they’d cramped Rodimus’s team into, though that wasn’t saying much, and the Prosecutor was larger than they were and reached him easily. Blurr grasped the cage bars and kicked at him, refusing to be removed until several quick sharp tugs dislodged him with a screech.

“Hey!”

Rodimus shook the bars with his good arm, Brawn following suit in some attempt to part them.

“What are you doing with him? Let him go! I thought this was our party!”

Ignoring his weak humor, the Quintesson dragged Blurr out by the neck with his thick tentacles, holding him up long enough to attach the lead before dropping him soundly. Blurr hit the ground with a painful clang but immediately rolled over, scrambling on all fours to try and return to the cage. One of his legs hung half limp and Rodimus noticed for the first time a long and ugly weld scar along the thigh, the result of what he instantly recognized to be a laming wound. Even so he made valiant effort until he was thwarted by another harsh tug at the leash, making him grasp at his throat and burble. The beast was excited now, froth coming in great viscous globs. Blurr kicked away from it but the Quint held him fast.

“Blurr! For slag’s sake, we’re the new ones here! Interrogate me! Don’t you want my Elite knowledge?”

Of course he planned to give them nothing, but Blurr was squirming on the floor like an animal in pain and it made his own stomach drop to see, to listen to. Something was wrong. He could feel his teammates EM fields reach for one another instinctively, seeking comfort.

“Knowledge? As if you creatures had developed knowledge.”

Inquirata laughed, a sound like bubbling tar.

“We have no desire for any of that minimal circuit flickering you creatures consider information. We have more important uses for you.”

The Judge cleared its throat, clearly bored by the banter. Blurr was hissing and spitting now, optics welling with pale tears.

“No no nononononononono not now I can’t I can’t again pleaseplease no not with them don’t make them watch don’t make them watch please no-!”

The Prosecutor dragged him to the center of the floor, away from where he could still back himself up to the cage, and tied him to the post Rodimus had noticed earlier. As soon as its tentacles left the lead Blurr was pulling against it with all his might, making no headway, clawing at his throat as if he would decapitate himself to escape rather than face whatever came next. Red Alert called to him but he was beyond their words.

The beast chittered happily as it was lead closer. Blurr jumped away from it, still snarling madly. They tied it to the post alongside his own lead and bobbed back to a safe distance.

“Get that thing away from him!”

It took its time chasing Blurr down. He scrambled and pulled away from its every move but his lead was shorter and it only afforded him so much space. Within a klik its clawed hands were on his feet and he was screaming unintelligible hate, flailing as its grip became solid. As they watched in horror the beast pulled him down onto his back, arching above in in a great display of chitin and metal, and moved its face to his crotch.

“ _Stop!”_

Blurr was beyond words, helm flipping back and forth. The Quintessons jeered and there was a click and Blurr fell back, limp, as the beast, the Insecticon or whatever it was, began to suck at him, slick sounds drifting across to the cage of outraged onlookers. Blurr’s legs were twitching as he still whined and moaned in horror, but he had stopped fighting.

“Stop it, stop it! What the hell are you doing to him!”

“None of your concern,” Inquirata said, but the Judge shushed him, looking on with interest as his faces slowly cycled. The beast pressed in close to Blurr, lapping as his valve with its mangled tongues, teeth catching and scraping along the soft folds just enough to make him buck and yelp involuntarily into its mouth. He felt himself loosen and wet with the probing of its proboscis and claws, and he screamed for his own sorrow, for the pairs of optics watching him debased.

That seemed to satisfy the beast and it pulled back, looking down at its work. Rodimus, even from his disadvantageous positon, could see the sheen of lubricant and dark liquid slime alone Blurr’s pretty valve, and ground his dentae for it. Claws slid inside the lips of his valve, anchoring just a ways in, and the beast pulled him apart, chittering curiously as it did so. That brought Blurr to attention again and he jumped and yelled, pounding his fists at the globular optics of the creature. It did not react.

It dug its claws in deeper and pulled him farther until it hurt, like he was being split open, and Blurr fell back in pain and fear and knowledge of what was to come. His valve clenched in rhythmic spasms, trying to force out the intrusion, visible now as he was spread. Only when it’s black pupils could see the dark blue iris of his secondary valve seal, the one to his gestation tank, did it move. Pulling its body up until the head seemed to sink into its neck, the beast hacked a few quick times and then reared forward and vomited.

Rodimus could not believe himself, believe what was happening just a few tiles away on the floor. Hot Shot was shaking and Brawn grabbed him instinctively, holding his face to his chest so he could not see, looking away. Red Alert had the strongest stomach of them all but even she was growing pale as her spark slowed in its chamber. Rodimus reached for her hand in silence, not trusting himself to speak.

Blurr bucked up, looking down at himself in horror. He managed to land a good solid kick on the beast and it let him go, though likely for its own reasons, and crawled away, choking on his own breath as his fans stalled. White chunks of the slime it had regurgitated into him streamed down from between his legs and he gagged, optics wide as plates. The beast watched him crawl a klik, grooming its face with its front legs.

It was hot and thick inside him. Blurr could feel his calipers cycle down hard every few nano-kliks, struggling to rid himself of the wetness, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled back until he was as far away from the beast as he could get, optics rolling in their sockets.

“What does this serve, other than to amuse you?”

The Judge looked at his companion, jaw gaping in question. Inquirata smiled.

“The mixer needs to prepare he incubation unit. The bile serves both as lubrication and,” he paused, twisting his lip in disgust, “to arouse the incubator.”

The group all nodded stoically, as if learning how the weather worked, and continued to watch Blurr shake and push at the floor, trying to expel the vomit from inside himself with small shuddering gasps, valve visibly pulsing. It was hot inside, so hot, and getting hotter, and he felt filthy and unholy and terrible. The beast had finished cleaning and was moving towards him again and he sobbed as he saw its stance, wide and aggressive, and his valve twinged in response. He rolled onto his knees, trying to reach the wall as if the first hundred attempts had failed from lack of willpower alone. His insides ached with hunger and need and disgust.

The beast reached his back legs and mounted him. He could hear Rodimus’s cry, feel it in his struts, but suddenly it meant nothing to him under the beast’s weight. He lowered his helm, drooling as he tugged on the lead until it compressed his throat tubing, vision going blank. The slick heat of the beat’s spike, or whatever it was, pushed between his thighs slowly and Blurr clawed thick tracks into the floor.

_“Nonono-!”_ and he gagged as it found his valve and pushed inside. The worst thing was the slowness of it, as if it were trying to be careful, as if it cared at all. His optics rolled back into his helm as it spread him wide, too wide, pushing and pushing and pushing. There was nothing in his stomachs but if there had been he would have purged them, the slick squish of his own valve, the vomit inside, the organ penetrating him enough to make his processor stall. It hit the back of his valve and pushed once more, as if to be sure.

 By reflex Blurr went lax, unable to fight it, again. Something in his mind clicked, deep, deep inside, and he pressed his face into the floor and shook. The beast gurgled happily and began to thrust.

Rodimus was beyond himself. Red Alert had been squeezing his hand numb for a while now but he had looked away, and then back, and away again. It was difficult to bear. He wanted to be brave for his team but most of them weren’t even looking themselves, and he was beginning to realize how pointless bravado was in the face of absolute evil. He could hear the slick sounds, Blurr making a rhythmic, high whine, and Red Alert’s heavy breath as she did her best to keep control. It was not easy. Rodimus looked up again at her face, pretending he didn’t notice the thick tears on her cheeks, and squeezed her fingers tight.

There was a thick organ of some kind pressing into Blurr - not a spike, too organic - more like a tube if anything. It was bulging in sectioned nodes, or perhaps for some other purpose, down its length, and as the beast thrust it slowly in and out of Blurr he could see it pulse.

It was pleasurable and that made Blurr sicker than any other part of it. Whatever it had put inside him was hot, so, so hot, and his calipers twitched and spread welcomingly around it. He felt his whole chassis on fire and turned his head to the side, trying desperately to cool his face on the floor. His hips were bouncing now, along with the movements of the beast, but even so he could see Rodimus looking right at him. Their optics locked.

The tube connecting them lurched, pulsing, and Blurr jumped, mouth wide in a silent cry. Something thick and round slid down it and, with a slow moment of gentle thrusting coaxes by the beast, into Blurr.

“Ah,” said the Judge, “those are the eggs?”

“Indeed.”

_“Eggs?”_

Red Alert covered her own mouth, brows knitting in fury.

“You’re breeding a Cybertronian life form with some kind of insect? How little shame have you got!”

Inquirata almost laughed at that, vocal tubes churning out a hot chuff.

“Your feeble minds would hardly grasp the true sciences of our work, but I will pity you with a simple explanation. Our kind has long evolved past the physical, baser needs of you animals, yet still we must reproduce from time to time, and I, in my vast wisdom, have created a way that is less expensive and much more reliable than the cloning methods currently employed. Better yet, it gives you failed experiments some real use to us again.”

The Judge snorted and said to no one in particular, “the scientist claims his own humbleness knows no bounds and yet is so in love with his plans that he must explain their greatness even to the livestock.”

The Prosecutors laughed.

“I-I am merely expressing our superiority!” Inquirata babbled, flailing his tentacles.

“You’re putting Quintessons inside him?”

Rodimus gaped in horror. No one responded, all too focused on the little hitching moans Blurr was spilling into the spongey tile as yet another egg forced beyond his valve lips, and, unseen by them, pushed deep in his tanks with the others. The eggs were smaller than a normal clutch, had he been carrying with his own kind, but not small enough to not carry a weight inside him, building and building as egg after egg was forced in, kept at a certain depth by the ovipositor’s seal. His stomach was beginning to bulge outwards, overcrowded, and he could only shake in horror. His optics still laid on Rodimus, disgusted, handsome Rodimus watching him rut with a monster.

_I’m sorry_ , he mouthed, hoping someone would see, _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._

The beast was still thrusting its hips a bit, small, monotone purring vibrating down through his back. Something about it, about the programming inside him associated with his gestation tank, made him hold still for it, even more than the fear or the pain. The fuller he got the more he was told by some ancient protocol to remain still, open, submissive. It was for the best. He was fulfilling his purpose.

That’s what the Quintessons wanted, after all. Maybe if he was good enough it would stop being so painful. The shame though, that was what bit him hardest. Rodimus looked like he himself might purge and Blurr felt his spark dying.

When the clutch, if it could even be called that, so evil and unnatural it was, finally finished being deposited into him, he felt as though his mind had gone completely. He was so hot that his fans were screeching, he was sure of it, not the normal purr they emitted when he was running at full capacity but an ugly gag of lukewarm air that made him even more ashamed than he already was. The beast pulled out and all he could do was lay there as a sickening splurt of fluid followed, oozing out of his still clenching valve in an endless wash. Without the small claws holding him upright he fell to his side, gasping, and put his hands on his face. He could feel the eggs inside him shifting as he twitched, awfully arousing, still coated in the burn of bile.

The Prosecutors moved back in then, corralling the relatively sated and silent beast and pulling its lead away while the other one moved to Blurr, not touching him or removing his leash but pulling out a small device, likely a scanner of some sort, and waving it over his lax body as he whined quietly, optics flickering and blank.

“We’re good.”

“It took well?”

The Judge was clearly intrigued.

“As I’ve said,” Inquirata grumbled, still sore from their earlier teasing, “it’s been proven to work multiple times. We’ve already gotten three good batches from this one alone, albeit small ones. With luck, we can modify the rest who have the capabilities and begin to work triple time.”

“And what do you intend to do with the leftovers? I don’t see the point in keeping useless metal around.”

Gleeful at being treated with respect again, Inquirata slapped his tentacles together.

“Bulls, Judge Brinn, to breed with our incubators in hopes they will produce more viable breeders. If the surplus becomes too much we can simply throw them out, of course.”

On the floor, Blurr was beginning to move again, slowly at first and then with sudden vigor. Shooting up onto his hands and knees, he backed up against the pole he was leashed to, grasping at his stomach and biting his lip till it bled.

_“No, no no…”_

“Oh, is it time already?”

“The process is quite quick.”

The Quintesson group moved closer, their egg shaped bodies leaning in a bit to watch Blurr squirm in pain and unwanted pleasure.

_“Get them out getthemoutgetthemout PRIMUS please not in front of him Primus no pleasepleasepleasenogetthemout-!”_

Blurr’s feet scrambled uselessly against the ground, his fingers pressing so hard to his distended stomach that he was beginning to scrape away paint. His thighs clamped together but it was somewhat in vain, the design of his body making it impossible to fully cover himself. Another rush of fluids poured out of his valve and he bucked up, crying loudly.

“What is it? Agent, what’s happening?”

Red Alert leaned as far as she could between the bars, medic instincts kicking in. Rodimus squeezed her hand still, but his own voice cracked when he tried to join her.

“Blurr!”

Blurr arched against the pole, whining a high, unhappy note. Inside him, though they could not see it, the squirming of a thousand small tentacles was beginning, pushing out and down to freedom. His natural birthing instincts were trying to understand the sudden need to activate, no long period of carrying coming before, no natural process, just the sudden violent pulsing inside them. His calipers clenched and then flared, wide, letting more of the amniotic fluid out in a hot rush. He screamed again, voice raw and small, as the first of many pushed hungrily through his gestation gate and into the throbbing passage of his valve.  

Curling in on himself, Blurr clenched hard, trying to slow if not stop it’s decent, but the movement was alive and desperate and it pulled forward still. Pushing against his valve walls with tiny suckers that nipped and tugged at his sensory nodes, the Quintesson grub squeezed its way to the open air, a thin tentacle breaching Blurr from the inside out. Shaking, Blurr reached down and covered his valve with both hands, trying to hold the creature in so Rodimus wouldn’t see, but it bunched up at his valve mouth, struggling, and the pressure made him jerk in a rough sob as he overloaded. Lubricant spilled out between his fingers and a second grub slid into his valve, following the first as he widened inside to accommodate by instinct alone.

The overload washed him back, trembling too hard to stop the squirming inside himself as the first Quintesson finally slid out with a wet plop, making no noise other than its slick wriggles in the puddle of fluid beneath him. Ashamed, horrified, Blurr pulled his hands away and shook them as if he didn’t know where they belonged. The pleasure was still coursing up his spine as the second moved inside, a third following, more, so many more still spreading and flexing in his belly. The Judge was saying something, clearly pleased, and he wanted to move away from the voices, from the thing he had birthed, pushing onto his hands and knees again and trying to crawl away, but even as he did so another tentacle set pushed out of him, lapping along his valve lips and looking for purchase to pull free.

He fell onto his side then, unable to stand it, unable to think anymore as another overload began to flare inside him. Quint after Quint pushed their way into the world, sliding down between his thighs as he covered his face and sobbed. Charge skittered up his spine, spark whirling in his chest as the overload made him jerk his hips like he was getting fucked. He came twice more before the feeling just remained inside him, blurring all pleasure and mortification and ecstasy together into a prolonged snap of electricity that whited out his vision and made his circuits sing. His valve clenched so hard every now and then that small jets of excess fluid would squirt out, steaming with heat.

He was hardly aware when the last one slipped away from him, gathered up by the once again active Prosecutors into a thick bag that shone dimly in the low light. They made small hissing sounds as they writhed together, small and high. Blurr lay still, panting and heaving, valve gaping from where they’d passed.

“Impressive! Not a single stillborn.”

“Indeed, Judge Brinn. As I have mentioned, the process is foolproof.”

The Judge turned to the cage of onlookers.

“That remains to be seen. Still I am pleased. This was a worthwhile investment, it seems.”

Gloating, Inquirata gurgled, gesturing to the Prosecutors.

“I will show our esteemed Judge to the nursery, if you’ll bring our crop. Vashik, call in the cleaning crew to deal with the incubator.”

They turned to the door without another look, discussing the grub’s weight and liveliness, and soon their voices cut to silence as they passed. Blurr remained where he was left, gasping sorrowfully into his hands.

Rodimus moved past Red Alert then, carefully holding his broken arm as he slid into the corner closest to Blurr’s prone form. He bit his lip, trying to think.

“Blurr? Blurr, are you alright?”

Blurr flinched, curling in a little more, and said nothing.

“Okay, that, that was a stupid question, but I mean, are you,” he swallowed thickly, “are you badly injured? Inside?”

There was no response for a moment, Blurr still clutching at his face, but then his voice, small and laced with static, poured between his fingers like tears.

“No sir.”

“Th-hey’ve done this to you before, haven’t they?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh.”

Red Alert opened her mouth again but Rodimus shot her an imploring look and she shut it, instead turning to attend to Brawn, who was looking at Blurr with hollow optics, and Hot Shot, who was trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

“You don’t… you don’t have to be ashamed of what they’ve done to you. It’s not your fault or anything.”

Blurr shook his helm again.

“Like I said, we sent out an all frequencies distress call all the way back to Cybertron. They’ll know where we are and how to reach us. We’re going to get out of here, okay?”

Finally Blurr’s hands lowered, his optics, wide and dark, locking with Rodimus’s.

“I’m glad you think so, sir,” he said, hollow as he looked at the sincerity in his superior’s face and ached at the hopelessness that he knew would come to replace it, “I really am.”

 


End file.
